


Strong Enough (To be Yours)

by targaryen_melodrama



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, By that I mean Peggy Carter is alive; well; young and dating Steve, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Multi, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, POV Sam Wilson, Sam Wilson Feels, Sam Wilson-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-24 19:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18168842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/targaryen_melodrama/pseuds/targaryen_melodrama
Summary: Packing a bag and leaving the city the way he did had seemed like a great idea two weeks ago, but now? Away from his friends and family, and without the person he recently found out was his soulmate?Sam isn’t so sure anymore.





	Strong Enough (To be Yours)

**Author's Note:**

> As indicated in the tags, Peggy's alive and young (the age she was when her and Steve got together) in this fic because why not. 
> 
> As always, infinite thanks to my beta and wonderful friend for essentially reading this fic three times and for still being my friend though I lied to her for like 6 months straight every single time I said some variation of "I'm almost done with the soulmate Sambucky fic!!!!!!!!!!!!"

_“Picture it: cute little picket fence, two stories, a nice, beautiful backyard with一”_

_“Where are you gonna find a backyard in New York City?”_

_“Shut up Sammy, I’m thinking.”_

_“Try not pull a muscle while you do that.”_

_Riley rolls his eyes. Sam can’t see it, but he knows. “My boyfriend’s the funniest.”_

_“Yeah, he is. Though you’re funnier if you really think we can afford a house right now, in New York City of all places.”_

_Riley’s quiet for a moment, and Sam turns to face him. Riley looks back, then quickly looks at the entrance of their tent._

_“Come here,” he says._

_“Why?”_

_“Just一come here.”_

_Sam sighs, throws a quick look at the entrance of the tent (neither of them can help it), and goes stand next to Riley’s bed, where he’s lying._

_Riley looks up at him, his wide grin a little dimmer than usual, then he scoots over for Sam to sit._

_“Is New York the problem? Or is it the house?”_

_“It’s...the idea of the house. What if we一what I don’t一”_

_“You can’t go anywhere, Sam Wilson. You got yourself the best soulmate in the game. You’re really gonna leave all of this?”_

_Sam huffs. “If you keep referring to yourself as ‘all of this’ I might.”_

_With one last look at the entrance of the tent, Riley moves up, splays his fingers on Sam’s shoulder blade, and kisses Sam’s lips._

_“Babe,” he says, before he pecks Sam’s lips again. “We have a month left. Four weeks. 30 days, and then the world is ours. Just keep your eyes on the prize, yeah?”_

_“Yeah.” Sam can never stay anxious too long when Riley’s around._

_“And Sam?”_

_“Yeah Ri?”_

_“When have I ever left you behind? We’re in this together. Always.”_

_This time, it’s Sam who bends down to kiss Riley._

_“You’re right. Always.”_

***

It’s the third night in a row that Sam is up at 3:30 in the morning, and it’s beginning to look like he made a bad decision.

It took a while一 _years_ actually一for Sam to get good at admitting when he was wrong, and though he’s much better at it these days, it doesn’t sting any less.

Packing a bag and leaving the city the way he did had seemed like a great idea two weeks ago, but now? Away from his friends and family, and without the person he recently found out was his soulmate? Sam isn’t so sure anymore.

Finding Bucky’s name on his wrist had been like a taking a cold shower without realizing he’d even stepped in the bathroom. Like having the best, deepest sleep and waking up hungover. Sam and Bucky had gotten past the murder attempts, past the weird _your platonic soulmate from 1934 is also my platonic soulmate from 2014_ , into an actual, genuine friendship so smoothly that Sam hadn’t noticed that his feelings had changed, that he was even in a place where something like this could happen, that he could or _would_ get another soulmate, let alone that that person would be Bucky Barnes.  

Honestly, Sam almost wants to laugh at himself. He’s talked people off the ledge so many times at the VA, told countless people that confronting things head on was often better than avoiding them, and here he is: alone in DC, with a cold cup of tea, and nowhere close to falling asleep.  

Sam sighs when he notices the time. 4:00 AM isn’t too early for a jog, is it?

(It is. Sam knows it’s way too early for a jog, but considering the fact that Sam had done what only 0.0025% of the world population reported doing by walking away from his soulmate, he doesn’t worry much about what the normal thing to do is.)

*

By 4:08, Sam is already a mile away from the tiny apartment he’d been living in, thanks to an old friend from the VA who’d be out of town for a while. The street is so quiet that even with the music playing in his earbuds, Sam startles when he hears the voicemail notification go off, and his legs falter for a second.

Sam hadn’t told anyone why he left. He’d left some vague thirty-second video message with Jarvis, letting the others know that he was fine, and that he just needed a little time to himself. Sam should’ve known better than to expect for his friends to leave it at that.

Sam considers listening to the voicemails, but what would that do except make him feel worse than he already did?  It’s fair for them to be worried, and God knows he doesn’t mean to make them, but _Jesus_ , Sam didn’t ask for this. He didn’t ask for any of it, and even now that he feels guiltier every day since he’s left, he doesn’t regret being able to get out of his own head and just _breathe_ for a while. Breathe and try to figure out where the hell everything has gone wrong.

When Sam enlisted, he had a clear plan in mind: _(1) complete your service, (2) come back home and settle down. And hopefully, somewhere in there, (3) meet your soulmate_.  

In reality, it went a little something like this:

(1) Enlist and meet your soulmate within your first week in the desert. Have some of the best years of your life with him despite being deployed because you don’t know一nobody really knows一how good it is to find and love your soulmate until it happens to you.  

(2) Lose your soulmate (and your will to live and his name on your shoulder blade). Find his wings on your finger, like a platonic-like mark could ever make up for the loss of a name.

(3) Hang on by the flimsiest of threads and make your way back to some semblance of a life.

(4) Meet Captain America not a year later. Find his shield on your ankle and realize you’re platonic soulmates.

(5) Find out his romantic soulmate is somehow also still alive. Find your best friend’s  _other_ platonic soulmate when you try to reunite them. Almost get killed by him, _twice_.

(6) Find out that that person who almost killed you ( _twice !_ ), your best friend’s best friend, the bane-of-your-existence-turned-good-friend, is your romantic soulmate.

 _Jesus Christ_.

Sam picks up the pace, and before he can stop himself, looks down at his wrist and watches the small, neat letters move faster and faster, in time with his breathing. His thighs are burning, his legs are numb and his feet are hitting the pavement so hard he can hear them over his music.

Maybe if he runs fast enough, Sam can leave it all behind. His embarrassment at feeling so strongly about someone without even realizing it. His shame at leaving Bucky behind, who’s most likely wearing his name too, and wondering why Sam hasn’t talked to him about it yet.

And worst of all, most painful of all, the guilt he feels at abandoning Riley again, so fucking soon.

*

Sam wakes up confused and out of it. He’d heard his phone buzzing though he was sure he’d put his phone on airplane mode the second he got back home from his jog. Sam reaches out, hand fumbling around for his phone, blinks at the harsh light and sighs once he reads the text.

 _You have two more days_.

Whenever he gets text like these, Sam thanks the Lord he isn’t on Natasha Romanoff’s bad side一and prays he never has to be. If Sam’s being honest, he’s thankful for the distraction. Just when he thought he couldn’t feel any worse, he’d started actually missing Bucky.

Their weekly meetings (Rhodey called them _dates_ , and Jesus, Sam might as well have been hit over the head with foreshadowing) had started a few months after they’d found Bucky, when he was first starting to settle into “civilian” life. He usually had a mundane thing planned with Steve, Nat or Clint after his therapy sessions and didn’t do well with being alone, but the Avengers had been on some mission on the West Coast. Sam still remembers how shaky Bucky’s voice had been over the phone when he’d asked Sam if he could come over.

Before either of them knew it, it had turned into a tradition. Bucky would walk from Hell’s Kitchen all the way to Harlem (to clear his head is what he’d told Sam), and drop by, usually with takeout or with groceries for them to cook.

 _God_ , Sam misses him.

Misses his bland stir-fry and his heavenly cherry pie. Misses his ridiculous takes on fast food and his moving retellings of family dinner in the Barnes household, whenever a good memory would resurface. Misses watching Bucky’s body move around his tiny kitchen, slow, sure and focused, wanting to make every meal they had their best yet.

Sam feels a dull pain settle in his wrist and gets out of bed as fast as he can. He’s lingered enough.

He slips his phone in his sweatpants’ pocket and makes his way to the kitchen. 7:30 flashes on his oven light, and after five 4:00 AM runs in the past ten days, Sam considers it a win. He gets started on coffee and is just settling on the idea that he won’t be leaving the house at all today when he hears a knock at his door.

Sam leans his hip on the counter and breathes in deeply. Nat said he’d had two more days. He really isn’t ready to face her or to talk about一

Another knock. Sam walks to the door, takes a deep breath and opens his door to greet一

“Peggy?” She’s wearing her usual black heeled boots with slim grey pants and a deep plum blouse. Under any other circumstances, this would’ve looked like a regular house call.

“You should know better than to open the door without looking.”

“I was expecting Nat.”

“Makes sense.” She takes a quick look around his apartment. “I thought someone would’ve made it here already.”

Sam feels a throb at his temple. “More people are planning to come here?”

“Sam,” Peggy says the same way someone would say _duh_.

“Is that what you’re doing here, then? You wanna talk to me?”

Peggy smiles. “No, actually,” she says, with that faux innocent yet confident voice only she can pull off. “I had some paperwork to drop off at HQ. I was in the neighborhood, thought I would come by.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Uh huh. Come on in.”

As soon as Peggy steps inside and shuts the door, Sam is walking back to the kitchen, wiping the sleep from his eyes and praying the coffee’s ready. “Coffee?”

“Please,” Peggy calls back. “With milk, if you have some.”

“I do. Give me a minute.”

Sam steps back into the living room with two mugs, hands one over to Peggy and settles on the couch next to her.

After a minute or so of silence, Sam gives in. “So?”

Peggy shoots him an unimpressed look. “‘So’, he says. Well Sam, for one, I’m glad you’re alive.”

“Yeah.” Sam briefly looks down at his hands before looking back up. “Sorry.”

Peggy waves that away with the hand that’s not holding a mug as she takes a sip of her coffee. “That’s alright. What’s going on?”

“Well一” Sam starts and interrupts himself. He isn’t even sure what to say. Instead of attempting to explain anything, he puts down his mug and turns to properly face Peggy. He pushes up his sleeve and shows her his wrist.

The letters are as crisp and sharp as ever, _James Buchanan Barnes_ clearly standing out on warm brown skin.

Sam hears Peggy’s small gasp and smiles, rueful on the edges. “It showed up Sunday two weeks ago, after dinner. I don’t know, I...I couldn’t think.”

“Oh James,” she breathes, soft as Sam has ever heard her be. He’s not even sure she knows the words left her mouth.

Peggy’s fingers move to wrap themselves around his wrist, then move away quickly and settle on Sam’s palm instead. “Sam,” she says, as quiet as earlier, though she sounds concerned now. “Is that why you left? Do you一do you not want to be with him?”

“No! No一that’s not一that’s not it. I just...I just never thought I’d get another one,” he explains. “Not this fast. Not like this.”

“But一that happens, right?” Peggy has that focused look on her face, the one that Steve and Bucky also have when they’re trying to figure out whether some new information is something they should know about, or something that’s simply not from their time.

“Yeah,” Sam confirms. “It does. I’ve一I’ve seen it happen. Often.”

Back when he was a kid, Sam’s dad had been one of the few pastors in the city to officiate commitment ceremonies for same-sex couples, especially older ones who’d found another soulmate (or their first one) later in life. More often than not, Sam ended up playing ring bearer or flower boy during those ceremonies. He remembers the words like his dad had spoken them yesterday, echoing in their poorly lit church basement.

_A second love can happen faster, much faster than the first one. It can be frightening. But as with everything in life, this second go is what you make of it. Today we pray that you make it as fulfilling and meaningful as a bond between souls can be._

“It’s, um一people say it’s something about souls that have grown attached once longing to be attached again,” Sam says.

“Okay,” Peggy says, nodding, like she’s mentally filling the information away. “So then...if you know about second soulmates, and you don’t mind that it’s Bucky, what is it Sam?”

“I can’t一it’s not一I really didn’t think I would get another soulmate.”

“And...you aren’t happy that you got another one?” Peggy’s face goes back to looking confused and this一this right here is one of the reasons Sam had gone away. Even if he actually knew what the hell was going on and why he’d reacted so intensely to finding out Bucky was his soulmate, he wouldn’t wanna talk about it at all.

“I just thought一I had just gotten used to the fact that I was gonna live without Riley. Without a soulmate. That一that was enough for me.”

“Used to the idea of living without Riley or used to the idea of living without love?”

Sam frowns, confused. Aren’t those the same? “Used to the idea of living without Riley.”

“Fair enough,” Peggy says after a moment. She reaches for her coffee and takes another sip before she goes on. “I’m not一I can’t tell you how you should feel about this. It’s not my place and it wouldn’t be productive. What I _will_ say is that second chances happen whether you want them to or not.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, a small, unhappy smile Sam knows all too well makes its way across her face. Not for the first time, Sam wishes he could do something about the time and the people _she_ left behind. “What you can do is make do with what you’re given.” Peggy looks up at Sam with a genuine smile this time. “And from what I understand, Mr. Wilson, that’s what you do best.”

Sam shrugs even as his cheeks warm up. “I do what I can.”

“I know you do.” Peggy takes a quick look at her watch. “Well, unfortunately, that’s me.” She drops her mug in the kitchen sink and heads to the front door.

“You’re leaving already?” Sam realizes all at once just how little human contact he’s had these past two weeks. He wouldn’t mind it if she stayed just a little bit longer.

“I really do have things to do at HQ.”

“Alright. I, uh一thanks. For dropping by.”

“Anytime. Plus I had to make sure you were fine before Steve had a heart attack,” she says with a nod towards Sam’s ankle, where it’s resting on the coffee table.

“Shit,” Sam says with a sigh. “I should probably call.”

Peggy raises an eyebrow. “You should definitely call. I’ll see you soon, Sam.”

*

Sam hears knocking at the door and quickly steps out of one of the coldest showers he’s ever taken. It goes against every single one of his preservation instincts, but he’s almost excited to see Natasha.

It’s one thing to realize how much he missed his friends after Peggy’s visit. It’s another to start thinking一 _really_ thinking—about _why_ his decision to run away wasn’t his brightest idea.

But on the evening of Peggy’s visit, the dreams had started.

Sam refuses to call them _wet dreams_ even though that’s pretty much what they are. Fortunately for Sam’s self-esteem and sanity, the Wikipedia article he’d read before his shower had said it was a common enough occurrence between soulmates that have been separated for a while.

He can still see (and feel) Dream Bucky’s body next to his; the words he had said are still ringing in his ears.

_Open your eyes. Let me look at you._

_Let me feel you_.

It had been overwhelming, to say the least. Bucky’s hands and mouth had been in places Sam hadn’t let anyone see or touch in so damn long.

_I’ve got you, Sam. Let me in. Let me in._

“Wilson! Open up.”

 _Shit_. “Give me a second!”

Sam slips on the first thing he finds一basket ball shorts and an old Air Force long sleeve t-shirt一and runs to his front door.

The second Sam opens the door, Nat slips inside and says, “Someone else was here.”

“Hello to you too, Natasha. And yeah, you just missed Peggy.”

She sighs. “This is what I get for trying to respect people’s privacy. And you don’t get to sass me when you’ve been missing for almost three weeks. Not when Steve almost killed Fury for sending him on a mission last week when he was headed to see you.” After a quick survey of his apartment, Nat nods, seemingly satisfied, and throws herself on the couch, before she turns to him. “Sam. What the hell is going on?”

Since it worked with Peggy, Sam walks over to Nat and simply pushes up his shirt sleeve.

“Well,” Natasha says after a moment, tilting her head, “that explains...something. Why did you leave?”

“Because I don’t know.” Sam doesn’t know what makes him more uncomfortable: the topic of conversation or Natasha’s eyes on him. “I don’t know what to do about this. I—I got overwhelmed, and I don’t...I just don’t know.”

“What is there to be overwhelmed about?”

What is there _not_ to be overwhelmed about?

“Jesus, Nat. There’s...there’s _everything_ to be overwhelmed about. Bucky was just—he just came back from being held by Hydra for 70 _years_ . What if he can’t do this? What if _I_ can’t do this?” Some part of Sam is vaguely aware that he’s panicking, spiraling, but it isn’t enough to get him to stop. “What if something happens to him? What if they take him away? What if he doesn’t make it? What if we’re on a mission—and something— something goes wrong? Natasha—Nat, _God_ , what if—”

“Sam. _Sam_. Look at me.”

Sam, who hadn’t even realized he’d been pacing, comes to an abrupt stop. When he’s reasonably sure he’s not going to cry, he raises his head to look at Nat.

“Sit down,” she says. “ _Breathe_.” It’s the voice she uses with civilians when she needs them to really listen, and somehow, it works on Sam. He sits next to her and tries his best to just breathe normally, _in_ then _out_.

“First. Why don’t you just focus on what _you_ need? On what you deserve?” Nat says, not unkindly. “You two _do_ have some shit to figure out. But this? You, staying away like this? This isn’t it. This isn’t _you_.”

Sam rubs absently at the small wings at the base of his right forefinger and blows out a harsh breath. “Well, what else would you have me do? Set myself up to lose another soulmate?”

“You’re not _setting yourself up_ for anything, Sam. Jesus, listen to yourself! Listen to what you’re _saying_. You’re gonna do what, now? Not connect with your soulmate in case something goes wrong? Your _soulmate_ , Sam. You’re gonna deprive yourself from that kind of love on the basis of _a_ , information you don’t know and _b_ , variables you can’t control?”

“Thought you didn’t believe in love.”

“Deflecting isn’t a good look一and it isn’t necessary.”

Sam deflates immediately, his shoulders coming down just as his heart seizes up. “Nat,” he says quietly, “I like him. I really do.”

“I know you do,” Natasha says, her tone matching his.

“Soulmates can go. They一they can leave and...and die. Bucky can’t一” Sam feels the tears coming again, swallows hard, and waits a moment to let them pass. “I can’t be alone again.”

“Sam.” Natasha reaches for his hand and squeezes it for a second. “You doing this一you’re letting yourself be alone before you two even get started.”

_But it would be so much easier than to lose someone all over again._

He doesn’t say it out loud but as always, Nat reads him like an open book. She opens her mouth then closes it, then shakes her head at him. “I一I know what it’s like to get your soulmate taken away from you.”

Sam startles. It’s the first time Nat’s ever talked about soulmates in a way that was personal. “If there was any indication, however small, any hint that I could have another one? I’d find them, if it was the last thing I did.” She shakes her head again. “Talk to him, Sam. At least try.”

Sam looks down at his hands and at his wrist. He feels flayed open just talking about all the things that could go wrong. And though Sam can, in the furthest corner of his mind, recognize that Natasha had a point, she hadn’t really offered a _solution_ to any of it. But _Sam’s_ current solution isn’t doing him any favors either, is it?

So what’s stopping him?

*

It’s fear. Fear is what’s stopping Sam.

When he steps out at 5:30 after Natasha leaves, he deliberately slows his running pace. He feels that burn in his legs and lungs, hears the familiar sound of the gravel under his feet, but his jog doesn’t feel the same. He’s going slow enough for this to feel deliberate and not like he’s running away. He’s going slow enough to actually _think_.

Sam had left because it seemed like the only thing he could do. He didn’t need—or rather, he didn’t _want_ to talk to anybody about this. It seemed like the only rational thing to do: isolate himself, keep himself away till he figured it out, whatever the hell “it” was supposed to be.

The only thing he’s figured out so far is that he’s not just overwhelmed, he’s terrified.

Sam remembers those first few days _after_ , holding everything in so tightly because no one would or could understand the depth of his grief. He remembers frantically turning left and right, staring at his reflection in the mirror, trying to find Riley’s name on his shoulder. He’d spent months avoiding looking down at his hands when he could, resenting the wings his eyes couldn’t help but track.

So yeah, Sam’s afraid, but he has every reason to be.

The thing is, fear’s never really stopped him before.

War zones and Hydra had been his daily reality for years, and while losing Riley had hurt like hell, he’d lived through it. He’d _survived_. _You’ve survived it all, Wilson._

And this, Sam realizes, this would be more than survival, wouldn’t it?

It would be a _life_.

Things might turn out horribly wrong, especially after his little disappearing act, but fuck, Sam had done death-defying things on a weekly basis for years of his life一before meeting literal Captain America. He could deal with this. He _would_ deal with this. And he might even get another soulmate out of it all.

There’s no harm in at least trying, right? Especially not for Bucky Barnes. Both Nat and Peggy had said so. And if anyone would know about complicated soulmate relationships, it was the two of them.

Like his brain was just waiting for him to catch up, Sam immediately starts coming up with a plan. First things first: he needs to call Steve before the guy has a heart attack. Then, somehow, he needs to gather his courage, and head back home.

Sam comes to a full stop without even realizing it, ready to walk back to the apartment. Sam’s wrist tingles at the thought of _home_ , and for the first time, Sam actually pays attention and looks at the letters moving in time with his breathing for a little while. He’s confused by the way the letters shine on his skin, and it takes him a second to realize he needs to look up. Startled, Sam realizes this is the first time in the past 15 days that he’s been outside long enough to see the soft pinks and clear blues of the sunrise.

Sam isn’t great at coming up with metaphors, but this seems like a sign if he’s ever seen one.

*

“If Peggy hadn’t told me you were fine, I would’ve kicked your ass.”

Steve says it so conversationally, Sam feels guilty instantly. He gets off of speakerphone and sighs before bringing the phone to his ear.

“Bucky told you?”

“Course not. Both of you just love making things hard for me一and for each other.”

“I’m一”

“He started moping for a few days after you left. He finally left his apartment last week. We went sparring, and when he removed his shirt一”

“You saw.” Sam interrupts Steve. He doesn’t know where his name is on Bucky’s body, and that’s not the way he wants to find out.

“Yeah.”

“So...you’re _not_ kicking my ass?”

Sam hears a deep sigh and some shifting and knows that Steve moved to make himself more comfortable, wherever he’s sitting.

“I know you. I might not understand why you did what you did, but something must’ve happened. Whatever that is is between you and him, but I’m sure it made sense for you to leave.”

Jesus. If only that was the truth. “It一it didn’t really. Steve. I’m sorry, it really didn’t, and I一”

“Sam. I don’t mean that you were right一or wrong一to leave. What I’m saying is that _you_ must’ve felt like you had a reason. I trust you, Sam. Always have.

Sam’s quiet for a few moments, taking it all in. Then, “Peggy write this little spiel for you?”

“Fuck you,” Steve laughs. “I can be smart.”

“Uh huh.” Sam’s smiling despite himself. “Maybe I should leave more often, give you some time to become wiser.”

“I’d rather have you here with me. Even if it makes me stupider in the long run.”

“Yeah,” Sam sighs. “I’d rather be there too.” It’s the truest thing Sam has said in a while.

“Come home?”

Sam feels warmth in his chest and on his ankle when he hears the hope in Steve’s voice.

“Soon. I promise.” 

*

After calling Steve, Sam thinks about going out for one last run but decides against it. He’s pretty tired and thinks he might actually be able to sleep a full night’s sleep, and is quite happy when he does.

The next morning, once his bags are packed, he picks up the phone and calls the one other person who hasn’t heard from him yet.

“He lives!” Rhodey’s voice is far away, as if he’s on speaker phone, but his thoroughly unimpressed tone comes through loud and clear.

Sam makes sure his sigh is audible. “Did I not leave a message to tell everyone I was fine?”

“Sure, Sammy. Last Tuesday, we dealt with sentient mannequins and an alien species that could control insects, but I shouldn’t be worried ‘cause you left some thirty-second message telling us you’re ‘fine’.”

“Rhodey.” Sam aims for exasperated, but a little guilt manages to slip through.

“You’re fine. What can I do for you?”

“I’m, uh, I think I’m ready to go home. I only bought a one-way ticket to DC and I know you’re supposed to head here soon, so I was wondering一”

“You want a ride home?”

“Yes please,” Sam sighs, relieved he doesn’t have to ramble some more. “When do you leave the city?”

There’s a short silence. Then: “What if I told you I was already on my way?”

“What’s your ETA?” If he has a few more hours to waste, Sam has a few people he could visit while he’s here.

“Well…”

There’s a knock at Sam’s door and Sam rolls his eyes. He has some serious re-evaluating to do when it comes to his friendships.

“Sam,” Rhodey says when Sam opens the door. He sounds pleasant enough, but his face tells another story and Sam feels some of that guilt coming back in full force.

“I’m sorry. I一come on in for a second, would you?” Once Rhodey’s inside and looking at Sam curiously, Sam actually says the words out loud. “It’s uh, I have a new一another soulmate. It’s...it's Bucky. Bucky’s my soulmate.”

Rhodey sobers instantly. “How are you feeling?”

“I...still have some thinking to do. But I’m ready to go home.”

Rhodey nods and grabs Sam’s bag from where it’s leaning at the feet of the coat rack. “Well if you do wanna talk about it, we have about four hours to go through all of it.”

“What?”

Rhodey turns back to Sam, as if he’s surprised by _his_ surprise. “How did you think we were gonna head back to New York?”

“Private jet? Commercial flight, first class? Being married to Tony Stark has to have _some_ perks.”

Rhodey rolls his eyes and walks to the door. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Sam takes his time going down the stairs, looking back at the house. It’s not that he’d made some fond memories here, but Sam’s going back to the real world and it feels good to linger, even if it’s just for a second.

It’s Rhodey who gets him out of his head.

“Hope that’ll satisfy you, soldier,” he says, nodding towards the sleek black sedan, who Sam only recognizes because of how many times his sister pointed it out as her dream car.

“Eh. I guess that could work.” Rhodey rolls his eyes again, more fond this time, and within minutes, they’re on the road.

With the smooth road, the grey sky and the comfortable and warm seat, Sam feels his body relax and realizes just how tense he’d been those past two weeks. Soon enough, though Sam’s happy he doesn’t have to fill their comfortable silence, he actually feels like talking.

“You know my dad died when I was a kid, right?” When he sees Rhodey nod, he goes on. “I asked my mom once. Whether she wanted another soulmate.” Sam’s mom always looked strong一proud and strong一when she talked about his dad, but when Sam had asked, her eyes filled up and it was a while before she could actually answer. “She said he was it. There’d never be another man like Theodore Wilson. Not for her. Last year, when Steve and Peggy got married, I couldn’t stop thinking about what my mom said, and I didn’t know why. Watching those two together, and thinking about my mom, it...I don’t know. People can have two soulmates, or more. I _know_ they can. But I can’t一I don’t know...I really don’t know how to feel about this, man.”

Rhodey hums, sounding thoughtful. “Second soulmates _are_ rare, but they’re not unheard of.”

“You’re right,” Sam sighs. “I know they aren’t. It’s not just that though. It’s that _and_ the horrible timing. Even if I wanted to do this, even if we tried, I…I’m not sure.”

Rhodey frowns a little. “You and I both know that soulmates don’t follow any rules, especially not the rules society says they do. Right?”

Sam’s mind immediately goes to those old sepia toned pictures of the large scars on slaves’ bodies that every Black kid in the country (and in the world, probably) has seen, their flesh marked where names and marks had been forcibly removed. Then, he remembers just how much money he (and Rhodey and others like them) had had to spend on heavy duty concealer before Don’t Ask Don’t Tell got repealed.

“Right,” Sam sighs.

Rhodey looks at him for a moment then turns his eyes back to the road. He’s quiet for a while before he takes a deep breath.

“I ever tell you about how I found out Tony was my soulmate?”

Sam shakes his head.

“I always had Tony’s mark, even before I wore his name. This...this fist-sized circle appeared on my chest the day after I met him. I knew he wore mine too but I never saw it. It wasn’t on any visible part of his body, and Tony would never let me see it. _Gotta leave something for the imagination, Platypus_.” Rhodey rolls his eyes even as he smiles. “Anyways. Life goes on, we graduate, we grow up一at different speeds, mind you一and I never really thought anything was wrong. Or different. In hindsight, I should’ve一well, it is what it is. Woulda, coulda, shoulda. Life goes on, then...well.” Rhodey pauses, swallows hard. “Then Afghanistan comes around. I thank my lucky stars everyday that nothing had changed before then.”

He’s quiet again for a brief moment before he shakes his head. “Afghanistan comes around. Worst week of my life. We, uh, we find him. The weeks after that? A complete blur. The only thing I remember is the one time I saw Tony have a一a real breakdown, a massive one, maybe two weeks after we found him. Every other day was just putting out fires, you know? Making sure he was healthy, as much as he could be under the circumstances. Booking appointments with psychologists, psychiatrists, every kind of specialist under the sun. Maybe six weeks after he was back, he insists we go on this vacation, for a week, on one of these private islands. I argued as much as I could一should we really be leaving the country again, this fast? Should he be taking a break from therapy and all? But you know Tony. And in the end, who was I to tell him how he could or couldn’t cope? So we go. We go and we have a great time. It was the first time I realized he would probably be okay. Then, I think four days into our vacation, I go to shave and notice the circle on my chest is gone.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. It’s what I said, too,” Rhodey says. “I run out of the bathroom to check that Tony’s still on his side of the villa, ‘cause I was freaking the hell out. I didn’t even know that that could happen, and my feelings about Tony sure as hell hadn’t changed一at least, not that _I_ knew. So what the hell was going on? I didn’t wanna head back to that bathroom, didn’t wanna see what my chest looked like, but I felt like I was gonna throw up. So I run back to the bathroom and I can’t help myself一I look into the mirror. And right there一” Rhodey briefly touches the right side of his chest, a tiny smile stretching his lips “I see _Anthony Edward Stark_. And of course, I freak out even more.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey says again. “Far as I knew, Tony’s mark was platonic too, right? And the guy was just back from being _kidnapped_ , for God’s sake, and  _now_ I start wearing his name? So I put a shirt on, sit on the bathroom floor for God knows how long. I’d probably have spent the entire day there if Tony didn’t suddenly burst into the bathroom, crying. He lifts me up from the floor then throws himself on me. If I hadn’t been as startled as I was, I probably would’ve noticed that for the first time in all those years I’d known him, Tony wasn’t wearing a t-shirt or some kind of tank top. After a while he stops crying and looks at me with this...God, this _ecstatic_ expression on his face and just keeps saying this one thing, over and over. ‘ _You’re here. You’re back_.’ For a second I thought he might be hallucinating or something, then I finally notice he isn’t wearing a shirt, and I see them...the smallest little letters, pale under his arc reactor. _James Rupert Rhodes_.”

“So一wait. He一”

“Was wearing my name as well, and had it the entire time we’d know each other. Since day one. My name had been right where they had to input the arc reactor and he thought he’d lost it. Lost me. To this day I don’t think I can explain what I was feeling at the time, but next thing I know, I’m just...crying. I don’t remember the last time I cried like that. I was...I was devastated. This couldn’t be happening.” Rhodey smiles again, a little bit amused and a little bit sad all at once. “Tony, ah...Tony got pretty mad. Told me I wasn’t nearly selfish enough or dense enough to do something like this. And I got mad too. Smart as he was, he should understand why I thought it was a horrible idea for me to discover his name _now_ , while he was just starting to recover.”

“What’d you guys do?”

“Well we argued for a while, but after a couple of minutes, well...you know how what happens when soulmates who are interested in sex first meet each other.” Rhodey starts smiling again, though Sam can tell he’s trying hard not to. “We didn’t do much talking for a while.”

“Okay. Alright. Great.”

Rhodey’s smile widens before he shrugs. “You know how that works. Anyway, when we got it all out of our system, it was a little easier to talk about stuff, having bonded and being tired from...all the shit we did.” Rhodey outright laughs at the face Sam’s making. “It’s true! After we were done, I told Tony that I was worried about him dealing with something so big when he was still so vulnerable. And he told me that I should know just how much finding his soulmate was going to help him through this. And here we are now,” he says, as he wiggles his left ring finger.

“Just like that?”

“Well no, of course not. It took a long time for me to accept that he’d been wearing my name for over a decade and never told me. Took me a while to stop feeling guilty or frustrated about it. And even with his name on my chest, Tony still had a hard time accepting that he was my soulmate and that I felt and behaved the way soulmates do. We argued over that, and all the other stuff that comes with being ordinary, flawed human beings. I guess一I guess what I’m trying to say is that names, signs, they all just happen. It’s impossible that the two of us are the only two people in history with shitty or unfortunate timing when it comes to discovering their names, but we don’t hear about those stories. And after a while I realized that it was useless to wonder about the timing. If I’d gotten Tony’s name back at MIT, would our relationship be different? Healthier? I don’t think so, but more importantly, I don’t know so. And neither do you,” he finishes with a look at Sam.

Sam stays quiet for second, trying to process everything Rhodey had just said. Just like his conversation with Nat, it all makes sense. It’s just一

“So I’m just supposed to一to _let myself_ have another soulmate, even though the circumstances一”

“Sam Wilson.” Rhodey’s tone is sharp, though not unkind, and Sam turns to him immediately. “Scientists have _just_ started figuring out soulbonds, and every other year they find out what they thought they knew is wrong. Do you think _you_ know how they’re supposed to work?”

In this moment, Rhodey sounds and looks just the few memories Sam has of his dad. Sam’s throat seizes up, and since he can’t quite speak, Sam settles on shaking his head.

“Good. Let yourself be happy the way you’re always helping others be, yeah?” Sam nods, still unable to trust his voice.

The rest of their drive into the city is mostly quiet, except for Rhodey giving Sam a quick breakdown of what he missed while he was in DC and getting a call from Tony that warms and pulls at Sam’s heart at the same time. The quiet helps him relax, and he starts thinking about the past few weeks. About how many of the people he loved and trusted told him to go for it. About how much Bucky had already been a part of his life before his name appeared on Sam’s wrist.

_I’ve got you, Sam. Let me in._

By the time Sam starts recognizing the buildings, his mind is clearer than it’s been in weeks.

“I’m gonna talk to him.” Saying it out loud helps, for some reason.

“Yeah?” Sam can hear the smile in Rhodey’s voice.

“Yeah. I wanna一I’m gonna send him a text.”

“Now?”

Well, Sam was gonna wait until he was home, but why not? “Yeah. Yeah, right now.”

Sam pulls his phone out of his pocket, opens his Messages app, and lets his fingers hover over his keyboard. Apologies and jokes all cross Sam’s mind and he pushes them aside, trying to be straightforward for the first time in way too long.

_Hey Buck. I’m back in town. Can we talk?_

***

Sam gives up on trying to get his leg to stop shaking (and on telling himself he isn’t nervous) and looks up at the door, disappointed once again that the newcomer that just walked in isn’t Bucky. He hasn’t been this nervous since the first time he strapped wings onto his back and jumped off a 10 foot tall building, so it feels weird to feel this way in _Starbucks_ of all places, next to two girls squealing about some Peter Kavinsky guy and a mother helping her toddler drink hot chocolate.

He took a week to get his thoughts in order (again). Natasha has rolled her eyes when Sam told her he  needed more time, and Steve had pulled constipated face number 32 ( _I’m trying my best to be supportive but I disagree_ ), but Sam needed a moment to properly think, confront his fear, and put everything together once and for all. Every time Sam had a breakthrough, he realized he had another problem. It hadn’t _just_ been the timing, or _just_ having a soulmate again, or一

Sam doesn’t believe in the idea that you can sense your soulmates’ emotions, but he swears that the second Bucky walks in, the air changes. Bucky looks...well he looks the way he’s always looked. Shy and overwhelmed, annoyed and alert, and so damn good Sam doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He’s wearing all black一well, mostly black, his sweater is dark grey一and his slightly unkempt hair brushes his shoulders. He orders some hot drink, looking much steadier than he used to when he first started interacting with the public and Sam feels a surge of pride as he watches him head to the end of the counter, thank the barista for his drink and add cinnamon and vanilla powder to his drink.

His eyes light up when he spots Sam and as he comes closer, Sam’s stomach swoops lower. Seriously, it’s the EXO-7 trials all over again, and he’s hovering over the edge of a ridiculously tall building, his muscles tense and his mind hectic.

“Hey,” Bucky says with the tiny smile Sam associates with a warm slice of cherry pie. “‘M sorry for being late.”

“You’re good, I was actually early. How are you?”

“‘M doing alright. I should be asking _you_ that though. Everything okay?”

Sam should’ve known that he wouldn’t even have a few minutes of small talk, or a way to ease into the conversation.

“I...I guess? I don’t know. I don’t really know how to feel about this whole thing.”

“What whole thing?”

_Now or never, Wilson._

“I’m just一I’m just gonna come right out and say it. Three weeks ago, Sunday, after we had dinner I一I noticed一your name.”

This is it. No going back.

Sam takes a deep breath. “I’m wearing your name, Bucky.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, a little incredulously. There’s joy and so much _relief_ on his face that Sam feels like the worst of monsters when he sees the light leaving his eyes just as fast as it came. “Did you not. Do you not want一that? Is that一is that why you left?”

“Not exactly, no,” Sam says, and he knows it’s not quite the right thing to say when Bucky looks away, biting at his bottom lip, but Sam has a lot to say and he wants to tell the truth. And the truth...the truth’s not particularly pretty. “Not exactly, no, but it’s not what you think. It’s not because of you. Not for the most part.”

Bucky doesn’t look any better, but he turns to Sam, his body more tense than usual, like he’s bracing himself.

_God. I really fucked up, didn’t I?_

“Bucky...it’s not you. It’s me. I一”

Bucky huffs. “I’ve only been properly living in the 21st century for twp years and _I_ know that’s a bullshit line, pal.”

“I was _gonna_ say that it wasn’t you but the _timing_ , smartass. I mean it, Bucky,” Sam says, serious again. He needs Bucky to hear this. “It wasn’t一the problem wasn’t you. It’s just...did I ever tell you about Riley?”

The words are out of this mouth before he even realizes that’s what he’s going to say. He’d planned to be as honest as possible with Bucky, but Sam isn’t going to do an entire deep dive into his traumas, right there in a midtown Starbucks.

But then again一that’s the entire problem, isn’t it? He’s been letting his baggage hold him back without letting anyone know why he was falling behind, why he had trouble moving forward.

Bucky looks serious now too, his head slightly tilted to the side as he looks Sam over.

“You haven’t,” he says quietly.

“Didn’t think so,” Sam says. He clears his throat and pushes down the urge to run away again. “Riley...Riley was my wingman. My best friend.” Bucky nods; this isn’t new information.

“He was also my soulmate.”

“Sam. I’m so sorry.”

Sam hopes his smile doesn’t look at pitiful as it feels. He shrugs. “I’ve made my peace with that. Or, well, I thought I did. And then I found your name on my wrist. The thing is...the thing is that even though I always thought of the possibility that one of us might not make it home, for some reason I always thought it’d be me.”

“No one wants to think their soulmate is gonna pass.”

“I guess not. I一anyways, I thought it’d be me. Turns out it wasn’t. But...but timing isn’t everything and I think...I think it was easier一easier to tell myself一” _come on Wilson, push through_ “一easier to tell myself that I was only worried about the timing of all of all this rather than look at the actual problem.”

“Which is?”

This is what Sam spent almost a month trying to figure out. And now that he has it figured out, it’s not any easier to say. Sam takes a deep breath, tries not to let his thundering heart get the best of him, and finally lets it all out.

“My一my life made some kind of sense before.” Sam doesn’t only mean before Bucky: he means before Steve, before SHIELD and Hydra, before Captain America and alien thunder gods and _I am Iron Man_. “Made some kind of sense to a lot of people. And everything had gone according to plan, except for the happy ending part, I guess. And I一I thought一God I thought I’d grieved, you know? I let it go. No more army, and no more wings and no more Riley.” Sam’s voice cracks on that last word and he lets himself take another breath before he goes on. “And I did, but not as well as I should have, which is why I was—I am—so fucking terrified.” This is the part that’s new to Sam. “Getting another soulmate, it一it fucking wrecked me, man. Opened up the wound and I couldn’t一I can’t see straight.”

Bucky is quiet and still way too good at hiding his emotions, and Sam doesn’t really expect what he says next. “I’m not一I’m not imposing anything, Sam. But if you一if you wanna mourn him, if you wanna mourn Riley before anything happens, I一”

“It’s not all about Riley, Bucky. I’ve known一I know what it’s like to lose part of your soul and it’s not just that, it’s not just losing your soulmate一” Sam’s throat is getting tighter, and it’s getting harder to speak. “I’m scared of losing you, too.”

Slowly, Bucky takes down his guard, and Sam can see it all in his eyes. Compassion. Empathy. Pain. Understanding.

And then, a deep breath. Sam expects reassurance or questions, but not what Bucky actually says. “Steve always had a name. Wore it loud and proud. _Margaret Carter_. It was a badge of honor, a fuck you to anyone who doubted him. Yeah, he was small and poor and he got called all sorts of slurs left and right, but he had a soulmate. He’d survive and get the girl, too. Me, well...I一I never had one.”

It takes all of Sam’s restraint not to react to that. Bucky grew up without a name. Without a _soulmate_. Holy shit. _Holy shit._

“Collected platonic marks left and right, though,” Bucky continues like he’s oblivious to Sam’s reaction. “Had one for Becca, one for Steve, one for each of the Howlies and one for Peg. So I understand complicated soulmate situations, Sam. I do. I can’t一I can’t say that it didn’t hurt, when you left. Felt like the universe was fucking with me one last time一never wore a name, lost my mind _and_ my platonic marks to Hydra, and now that I got them back and I got a name, even, my soulmate leaves.”

Sam feels his heart stop. “Bucky.”

“It’s alright,” Bucky says with a heartbreaking smile. “I just…you can take your time to decide. We don’t一we don’t have to do this, and if we do, we don’t have to do it now. But if you一if you don’t mind, I’d like to know. Eventually.”

Sam’s quiet for a moment. He wants to tell Bucky that he’d never leave him hanging, not again, but he understands and appreciates that Bucky’s laying out his boundaries.

“I’ve already thought it through,” he says after a while. “I know what I want.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows, silently asking a question, and Sam gives him the simplest, truest answer.

“I want you, Bucky,” Sam says, his voice soft but certain. “ You’re my soulmate and you’re my friend. You’re the best-looking, not-so-secretly caring pain in the ass I know. I一it took me a while to realize it, but...I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Bucky’s lips twitch slightly, and the hand that’s not holding his drink makes it across the table. “Yeah?”

If earlier he was dangling on the edge, this is Sam’s free fall. He reaches across the table too, and his hand in Bucky’s is the first beat of his wings: new, overwhelming, perfect.

“Yes.”

***

“You’ll never figure it out.”

Peggy laughs softly as she finishes her wine, while Steve is still squinting at the Monopoly board and Bucky scratches his head. Watching Steve and Bucky trying to figure out where they went wrong hasn't gotten old yet一Sam doesn't think it ever will.

“You don’t have a strategy, and you let your drive get the best of you,” Sam says as he picks up their empty glasses.

“Drive is generous,” Peggy points out. “Individually, you’re foolish when you get into the game. Together, you’re a lost cause.”

Sam’s laugh is interrupted by a wide yawn, and Bucky goes from looking offended to concerned.

“Home?” he asks, stretching slowly. Sam takes a second to appreciate the muscles of Bucky’s arm and chest moving before he nods.

“Yeah, I think that’s it for me. Thanks for having us,” Sam says and Steve waves his thanks away.

“Of course,” Steve says as he grabs their jackets from the closet.

“Same time next week?” Sam asks.

“Absolutely,” Steve says, wrapping Sam, then Bucky, into one of those massive hugs of his.

“See you next week, Stevie.”

Sam smiles to himself as they leave Steve and Peggy’s apartment, remembering how ecstatic Steve had been when Sam and Bucky officially got together. It’s their second week in a row spending Wednesday night at Steve and Peggy’s for dinner and games, and it’s though it’s too soon to say, it looks like it’ll become tradition.

Things had changed so much in the few weeks after Bucky and Sam’s initial conversation, and Sam’s not complaining at all.

They hadn’t left Sam’s apartment for a week (Rhodey had raised an eyebrow at Sam when they’d had lunch for the first time after he and Bucky got together; Sam had thrown a French fry at his face), so they’ve been trying to reconnect with their friends, and not be the type of people that forgot about everyone else once they found their soulmate.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Bucky shakes Sam out of his thoughts.

“Other than beating you and Steve again?”

“No, since making alliances at Monopoly ain’t allowed.”

“Since when do you care about what’s allowed? I play to win, you’re the one who has to catch up—Monopoly’s changed from how you used to play it, gramps. And if you really wanna know, I’m not just happy about winning. I just...I just had a really good time.”

“If you’re that happy about hanging out with our friends, you’ve been spending too much time with Steve, sweetheart.”

Sam huffs out a laugh. “It’s not that. It’s just一well...I’ve never had this before.”

“Had what?”

“A normal, domestic life with my soulmate. It never一we never got there, Riley and I,” Sam says, proud of himself for being able to bring up Riley’s name in casual conversation. “But I’ve got this now. With you.”

Bucky’s smirk turns into a soft, small smile and he squeezes Sam’s hand. “I’ve never had this before either. And though I still think you and Peggy are cheating一” Sam rolls his eyes “一I’m glad I get to have this. With you.”

Sam slows down and eventually stops walking, forcing Bucky to stop too. When he has his boyfriend’s attention, Sam leans forward and kisses him, sweet and slow.

“Is that what happens when you get with your soulmate?” he asks when they separate, his eyes still closed. “You both turn into saps?”

Sam feels more than he hears Bucky’s huff. “Speak for yourself. I’m not a sap.”

“No?” Sam _knows_ Bucky’s about to spew some bullshit, and decides to open his eyes to witness it.

“Nah. It’s not being sappy if I’m just observing facts.”

Sam rolls his eyes, though he can feel his cheeks warming.  “And what facts would those be, huh?”

“Well,” Bucky starts, looping his arms around Sam’s back, “the facts are that my soulmate happens to be one of the best people I know. He’s generous, funny, and sweet on the eyes too. You’re a special guy, Sam Wilson. I’m never gonna need to be sappy, or to tell you one of those ridiculously wordy speeches soulmates say in the movies. I can just tell the truth.”

Bucky starts walking again, like he hadn’t just said the sweetest damn thing Sam’s ever heard, and Sam just has to stop Bucky and kiss him again, though they’re in the middle of the street downtown Brooklyn and probably annoying every single pedestrian.

 _I can just tell the truth_ 一God, Sam loves him.

Because the truth is that just a few weeks ago, Sam was terrified. The truth is that there are days when Sam still wakes up nervous, confused and scared, though those are fewer and far between.

The truth is what Sam has known, what Sam has done for his entire life: jump, not because the fall is easy, but because he knows what’s waiting on the other side is worth it.

And now that Sam knows the safety of Bucky’s arms, the warmth of his kisses, the love that shines in his eyes, steady and sweet, he knows there’s no better place to land.

 

 **End**.

**Author's Note:**

> *cue Miley Cyrus they tried to kill your favourite bitch clip* 
> 
> This fic almost killed me dead. It started out going fairly well after I read through the Sambucky soulmate tag (including this [fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15492144) by Llixale !). Then I got stuck, removed like half of the fic, added a prologue, gave up on the fic and expected it to be a WIP forever unposted, got so inspired that I got hope for this fic, attempted smut, rewrote a part, failed at the smut, rewrote 2 other parts and *finally* finished. 
> 
> I'm glad I finished it though, and I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave a comment, as always.
> 
> Title is from the song Johnny Belinda by Active Child. 
> 
> Lastly, I am on [Tumblr](http://targaryenmelodrama.tumblr.com) if you wanna drop by!


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